To be or not to be … seen

Male Bobolink by Doug Gimler

Grassland pageantry

In early May, amidst the flashes of color and splendor of arriving migratory birds, two cryptic arrivals slipped onto my property unseen. But when I first heard their familiar voices ring out as I headed out for a walk, I felt the same heady rush of spring-laced joy that I’d felt upon seeing their more visible counterparts. I still haven’t seen my local Savannah Sparrow, which usually nests in my neighbor’s irrigated hay field. And even when I finally do, I’m rarely able to glimpse the subtle dandelion-yellow eyebrow that is its most distinctive feature. But the bird’s familiar reedy-then-raspy song will punctuate my mornings until the lazy heat of summer envelops my rural neighborhood.

I see my local Vesper Sparrow a little more regularly as it sings atop sagebrush bushes and flits around the grassland that surrounds my house, flashing its white outer tail feathers. Vesper originally meant “evening star,” an apt description for the nondescript little songster whose cheerful burble is as likely to accompany the muted hush of evening as it is to announce the promise of dawn.

Not all grassland birds are so cryptic. Having evolved in landscapes that once held no fenceposts or power poles to serve as perches, some of these birds opt for showiness over subtlety by engaging in dramatic aerial courtship flights. Males of several species climb into the sky, then parachute toward the ground on outstretched wings, while singing a volley of exuberant notes.

Beginning in mid-May, I await—with some anxiety given its steep population declines—the arrival of one of these exhibitionists. Near my home, the regal Bobolink frequents only two irrigated fields. Wearing a gold crown and a silvery white cape, this member of the New World blackbird family epitomizes avian royalty. Making one of the longest migratory journeys of any songbird (approximately 12,500 miles round-trip each year), the Bobolink spends its winters in Paraguay, Bolivia, southwestern Brazil, and northern Argentina. There—and during its journey—it may encounter widespread pesticides, be shot for feeding on cultivated grains, or be trapped to become someone’s caged bird. When I worked in Argentina years ago, I often saw men carrying a dozen bird cages on a pole over their shoulder as they headed out into the field to trap wild birds.

This spring, the field where a male Bobolink displayed so exuberantly last year has been quiet. But at long last, as I’m running on a late-May morning, I hear the unmistakable jumble of electrical-sounding notes that announce a Bobolink’s presence in the second field. I slow to watch as the bird takes to the sky, then flutters down while whistling, chirping, gurgling, and squeaking. As it lands, a second male shoots skyward nearby, then helicopters down, proclaiming its version of the burbled, patchwork song. After the longest of journeys, the Bobolinks have arrived. The pageantry of spring migration is all but over. Let the summer begin!

Take a small step to help birds

It is easy to feel helpless in the face of habitat destruction and disappearing wildlife. But according to the US Fish and Wildlife Service, over 96 million people in North America watch birds. If each of us does something to help them, we may be able to reverse declining bird numbers.

Here are a few things you can do:

1. Grassland birds have experienced greater population declines than any other group of North American birds. Habitat loss is the major cause, but mowing during the nesting season takes a heavy toll on the birds, making it nearly impossible for them to raise their young. Less frequent mowing is ideal. Mowing after August 20 (or even August 1) is the best of several possible mowing strategies to help grassland birds. Most of us don’t have fields to mow, but we can still help by making a donation to The Bobolink Project, which supports farmers by paying them to mow less frequently to protect grassland birds.

2. Many grassland birds nest on the ground, so they’re uniquely vulnerable to our prowling felines. Who hasn’t seen a cat hunting in a hayfield? Much of my childhood was punctuated by the loss of beloved felines to the perils of the great outdoors. One of our favorites—a long-haired, orange cat called Figgins, who hugged us by wrapping his paws around our necks—succumbed to a hay mower. Our timid Maine Coon cat, Freckles, was hit by a snowplow. More cats than I can remember were killed by cars, and two other favorites, Saddles and Fred (both females), disappeared. Keeping our cats indoors, which was unheard of in my youth, would have saved us from such heartbreak—and spared a lot of wildlife. Today, whole industries exist to enrich the lives of our indoor cats.

   • Consider building a catio so your cat can watch birds while staying safe from cars, owls, coyotes, and dogs.

   • Many cats can be taught to walk outside in a harness, especially if you train them to do so at a young age.

   • My cat Saba gets part of her dinner in a bowl, then “hunts” for the rest of her meal, which I put in specially designed “mice” that I tuck into bookshelves, behind pillows, and in other hidden spaces.

Thank you for reading and thanks for all you do to help birds!

Until next time …

Zapus and Saba enjoying their catio

Saba goes adventuring then “hunts” for her dinner

P.S. To read more about how my beloved cat Roo became my first indoor cat, when he was 10 years old, check out my new book Feather Trails—A Journey of Discovery Among Threatened Birds.

P.P.S. For those who read about my Say’s Phoebe saga in my “Subtle Songster” Substack post, I am happy to report that my phoebes fledged four young on June 8! So far, all four have survived and have been returning to their nest ledge to roost at night.